Page 15 of The Paid Companion

Lucinda shuddered. “They say St. Merryn’s blood runs cold, not hot.”

5

Perhaps it was the steady drizzle that made the mansion in Rain Street appear to loom on some other dark, metaphysical plane. Whatever the reason, there was an air not only of gloom but of neglect about the place, Elenora thought. It reminded her of the house where Lucinda kept watch over her dying employer, but on a far grander scale. It was as if something had expired inside the St. Merryn mansion a long time ago and the big house had begun to decay.

Elenora checked the card St. Merryn had given her to make certain that the hackney had brought her to the right address. Number Twelve Rain Street. There was no mistake.

The door of the hack opened. The driver handed her down and then unloaded the trunk that contained her personal possessions.

On the point of leaving her there in the street, he eyed the front door of the mansion with a dubious expression.

“Yer certain ye’ve come to the right place, ma’am?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.” She smiled, grateful for his obvious concern. “Someone will be out to collect my trunk in a moment. There is no need for you to hang about.”

He shrugged. “If ye say so.”

He clambered back up onto the box and let out the reins. Elenora squelched her own serious misgivings as she watched the vehicle disappear down the street.

When the hackney was gone, she was conscious of being very alone in the mist-shrouded street.

Just as well, she told herself as she went briskly up the steps. Better that no one had witnessed St. Merryn’s new fiancée arriving in a hack. This way her sudden appearance in Society would be all the more intriguing and curious in the eyes of the Polite World. At the end of this business she would simply disappear in the same mysterious fashion.

A small thrill swept through her. She was about to become a woman of mystery,an actress.She had the oddest feeling that she had spent her whole life waiting in the wings, preparing to take the stage, and now the moment had arrived.

She had donned her favorite gown for this occasion, a deep, claret-red walking dress that Mrs. Egan had ordered for her from her own personal dressmaker. Pinned to the bodice was the elegant little watch that her former employer had given her as a parting gift.

“You’ll do just fine, my dear,”Mrs. Egan had declared with maternal satisfaction when she had given Elenora the watch.“You’ve got spirit and nerve and a kind heart. Nothing can keep you down for long.”

She reached the top step and banged the heavy brass knocker. The sound seemed to echo endlessly deep inside the big house.

For a moment she heard nothing. Then, just as she was starting to wonder if she had, indeed, made a mistake in the address, she caught the faint patter of footsteps on a tile floor.

The front door opened. A young, very harried-looking maid looked out at her.

“Yes, ma’am?”

Elenora considered how to proceed. St. Merryn had told her that he intended to maintain their charade in front of his servants. But she was well aware that the staff of any household generally paid considerably more attention to the doings of their employers than said employers realized. She had a hunch that even if the maid and the other servants had not already realized that there was no genuine fiancée, they had, at the very least, deduced that there was something distinctly amiss about the situation.

Nevertheless, there was no use going about this in a half-hearted manner, she decided. She was being paid to act, and she must do so as convincingly as possible. The maid, like those in the Polite World to whom she would soon be introduced, was part of her audience.

“You may inform your employer that Miss Elenora Lodge has arrived,” she instructed in a polite but authoritative tone. “I am expected. Oh, and please have one of the footmen fetch my trunk from the street before it is stolen.”

The maid managed a hasty little curtsy. “Yes, ma’am.” She stepped back to allow Elenora into the hall.

Elenora waited until the young woman had vanished through a doorway before allowing herself to breathe a small sigh of relief.

She turned slowly on her heel, taking stock of the front hall. It was just as bleak and forbidding as the outside of the house. Very little light penetrated through the high windows above the door. The heavily carved wooden panels darkened the interior still further. A number of classical statues and Etruscan-style vases occupied the shadowy niches around the room. The place had the musty, dusty air of a museum.

Curious, she stepped to the nearest marble pedestal and drew her gloved fingertip lightly across the surface. She frowned at the distinct line that appeared and brushed her hands together to get rid of the dirt that had accumulated on the tip of her glove. No one had cleaned thoroughly in here in quite some time.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, heavier than those of the maid. Elenora turned around.

She found herself gazing at the most astonishingly handsome man she had ever seen in her entire life. From his high, noble brow to his finely chiseled features, smoldering eyes and artlessly curled hair, he was a vision of masculine perfection.

If not for the fact that he wore a butler’s formal coat and trousers, he could have modeled for an artist seeking to paint a vision of a romantic poet in the style of Byron.

“I am Ibbitts, madam,” he said in a deep voice. “I apologize for any inconvenience you may have suffered. His lordship is waiting for you in the library. If you will follow me, I will announce you.”

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